Seasons Of The Heart
by Pocky King Windy
Summary: Slash: Legolas/Elrond *Complete*- Legolas and Elrond make memories throughout the seasons. When the worst happens, however... *W: SAP! L/E Death!!!!*
1. Spring

Seasons Of The Heart

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Sir J.R.R. Tolkien. The fanfiction belongs to me.

Warning: Slash. Please do not proceed if this offends you.

Plot Cockroach: Uh, well, this one comes out odd. As we know, elves don't get sick… but this time, it's kind of different. I decided to inflict our dear little elf with some disease! It's sappy at most parts. Be forewarned!

Pairing: Legolas/Elrond

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== 1: Spring ==

The ships had arrived by the seashore. The elves stepped down from the vessels, treading on the white, jeweled sands of the Undying Lands. They were here at last.

Legolas of Ithilien shaded his eyes from the sunlight, looking away as far as the eye could see. The land was beautiful and fertile, and various sorts of blossoms, blooming in the springtime, littered it. Winter had just passed. There was a fresh breath of spring in the air. The elves were delighted; they had dreamt a long time ago of reaching the lands, West of the sea.

Beside Legolas stood Gimli, the dwarfish elf-friend. He picked a gleaming gem from the sand and inspected it, nodding in approval. At that, he turned to Legolas.

"Behold, friend, the elves and their marvelous tastes in gemstones! Pure and bright these are!" he held it to the sun, and it sparkled. "Ah! I shall take pleasure in working with your famed smiths, forgers and carvers!"

"You might create lovelier art then," Legolas said. "And they shall certainly enjoy your company, a son of Aulë, experienced with glittering diamonds and pearls!" But even as he was speaking, Legolas looked around in search of someone. The other elves had departed from the shore, walking towards the dry lands whilst singing and talking under the cool sun. Most of them had found their long lost kinsmen, their lovers, and their friends. Gimli and Legolas stood by the shore, alone.

"I suppose we should go in search of a place to dwell in," Gimli spoke up suddenly, startling the flaxen haired elf a little. But Legolas was too obsessed with his search.

"Just a little while more, Gimli," he reassured. "And I shall be done."

But after a while he spotted no one, and so sighing, he turned to the dwarf. "Let us go, then. But I wonder where to?"

"Perhaps we should have went with the others," Gimli laughed. "We wouldn't feel so lost, then. But here is my petition: I request that we seek Elrond and speak to him before acting."

"He was the very person I was seeking for," Legolas sighed. "I suppose that he thinks it too soon for our arrival."

"Did he promise to come?"

"Yes. And I kept it."

Both Legolas and Gimli spun simultaneously to face the voice. The half-elf stood before them, robed in white. He flashed a dazzling smile at them, extending his arms to embrace the two people warmly.

"It has been a long time Master Elrond," Gimli said, bowing low instead of embracing the half-elf in return. "We bring you tidings from Middle-Earth."

"And we shall no longer bring any from there," Legolas piped in, amused. Elrond nodded with a slight smile.

"I see. But we shall have to save that for later," he said, taking the two by their hands. "Right now we must meet the Breath of Arda, and then seek a place for your lodging. Where would you prefer to live? By the woods, the streams, the sea? Or perhaps on a plain, under the stars?"

"I'd like to live near you," Legolas grinned as he spoke. "We could exchange many stories of the past, present and the future. And Gimli shall make us plenty of silver caskets, laden with ornaments of precious gems and mithril – I hear that he will be looking forward to working with our elvish smiths."

"Ah, then I thank you in advance, Master Gimli," the half-elf replied. Gimli turned a little flushed. He had forgotten how graceful and attractive the elegant half-elf was, throughout the years in the Glittering Caves. He shone more brightly than the diamonds the dwarf had seen, white, like the dreamy pearls, and his hair the color of a black onyx stone. He compared the half-elf's gray eyes to that of mithril silver, clear as the sky on a cloudy morning, when the sun has not penetrated the dawn yet. He was calm, composed and quiet, every bit how an elf-lord should be.

Gimli found that his two friends were nearly the opposite of each other. While Elrond was fair and dark haired, Legolas sported flaxen, silky locks, gleaming in the sun like fine yellow gold. His eyes were like a swirl of emerald and azure aquamarine, like the skies meshed with the foliage of the forests. Legolas' skin was fair and white, fairer than the half-elf, and sinfully beautiful. He was certainly more sociable and extroverted compared to the reserved half-elf, very lively and resourceful. Of the two, Gimli was fonder of Legolas, but given, they had been together for a longer period of time.

They walked on, speaking and laughing, to the mountains where the Mansion lay.

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"You seem depressed, Legolas."

Gandalf sat by the window, looking out. The elf sighed inaudibly, and turned to look at the ancient wizard.

"My heart troubles me so."

"What of?"

"Strange feelings," Legolas replied, but he would say no more. Gandalf raised his brows in curiosity, but he decided to let the matter rest for a while. Therefore he shrugged simply, and chewed on a bit of cake, and then finished it in a bite.

"Well, try not to overdo yourself, lad," he said, getting up. "I must go now, Legolas. Take care, and thank you for the cake."

"You're welcome, Mithrandir," he replied, smiling. Gandalf winked and shut the door behind him. Promptly the elf sank into the chair, exhaling loudly. "… Strange feelings indeed."

Legolas had lived in the Undying Lands for nearly two months now. Spring proved itself wonderful in these blessed earth, under the hands of Yavanna, Green of the World. Everything blossomed well, bearing fruit and flowers far more plentiful than needed by the elves. Gimli had also found delight, as per his words, with the elvish smiths and forgers.

All through this while, Legolas spent his time with Elrond, and with other elves, though more with the former. They walked and talked together when the weather was sweet, laughing, and spotting out secluded places where the air proved fresher. And through that time too, Legolas discovered hidden feelings, buried deep in his heart. At first, he was confused.

But time went by.

Legolas knew the answer to that call now. It was the call of love.

The flaxen haired elf sighed inwardly. Pursuing this matter with Elrond would be fruitless. After all, he was already married to the Lady Celebrian. Why, they even had children together! Legolas was ousted out, yet before he had started competing. This was a losing battle, he knew.

"… It hurts to think it that way," he said, finally getting up. He then walked to the door, and stopped, looking back. Shaking his head, Legolas disappeared out into the sunshine.

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"Forgive me, but he is not present right now."

The blond lifted his brows. Celebrian shook her head slowly. "He has gone out to the fields, I suppose. Do come in, Master Legolas. I wish to have a word with you."

He bit his lip, trembling slightly. Perhaps Lady Celebrian knew of this, and she wanted to nip the trouble in the bud. But inwardly he was relieved – at least she had not breathed a word to the half-elf. Therefore Legolas nodded, and he stepped into the house lightly. Celebrian drew him in and motioned him to settle on a chair. She moved to the kitchen, and in a moment, she was out with a cup of tea. It was evident that she had been expecting the blond to drop in on her.

Celebrian sat on a chair, opposite him. She stared at Legolas for a while; it seemed like eternity to him, but after a fleeting instant, she lowered her gaze to the ruby liquid contained in her cup. Celebrian sighed softly, pushing gently her long silvery-gold tresses away from her face. She then returned her gaze to Legolas.

"Sometimes things just do not last as long as we might seek it to…"

The blond shifted a little. However, he too, was a little surprised at her words. Celebrian smiled.

"You may feel much for another, Master Legolas, and yet sometimes your feeling slips away," she continued, unwavering. "It moves on, though, like a flow of water in a stream. Likewise, one's feeling can move on, flow on, to another being. It will leave your last loved one devastated."

Legolas looked directly into her eyes. Her love affair with another elf was no secret to him any longer, but he doubted it as the truth, all the same. Elrond had not told him; he figured it out on his own. Legolas was never one to listen to news spread by the wind, however true it may seem – and for that, he was spared a lot of sin and foolishness.

Yet now, the truth was already known. Celebrian had confessed. But why was she telling him this all a sudden?

"You already know why," she whispered. "… I do not wish for one to be distressed on my account. And even if he weren't, he would be, by another's. Do not let him deceive himself! But let him find his way, to open his heart again, to another. Nay, Master Legolas, you need not my permission; I beg you to speak to him – the only person who can permit you to act, is you yourself, and him."

Legolas stood up, a little shaky, but determined. He had heard enough, and he was moved by emotion.

"…Where?"

"By the white falls, lamenting his existence."

Legolas nodded, and rushed to the doorway. He swung it open, but before he stepped out, he turned back to face the silvery lady, sitting on the carven chair, by the window. He beamed at her, and bowed low. "Thank you."

She nodded, and smiled graciously. There was a kindled fire in her eyes, unspoken, but Legolas saw it. His beam grew wider.

The flaxen haired elf left the house, and bounded in the direction of the fair falls. Warm light fell upon his skin, and blue eyes met the equally blue skies.

Summer was just around the corner.

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To Be Continued

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Note: Next part, summer! Boring story, huh?


	2. Summer

Seasons Of The Heart

Disclaimer: Belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. The fanfiction is mine.

Warning: SLASH. For more reference, read the first chapter.

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== 2: Summer ==

He rushed to the falls, his footsteps lightly treading the green grass covering the ground. The world smelt fresh; the cool breathe of spring meshing with the warm sunshine of summer. The trees were green, and already the fruits were sprouting forth from the flowers, which petals had fallen like feathers of a molting bluebird.

The blond reached a clearing, now losing his direction. This part of the woods was new to him. He could hear the waters, splashing nearby, but he could not see it. He did know another trek to the falls though, but it took more time to reach the falls that way, for he had intentionally meant for it to happen that way, so that his day with the half-elf would last longer. And now he was in a hurry.

But Legolas was a wood elf. He could navigate strong rivers, pass great mountains and hurry under dark caves. This wood would be easy to unfurl in his grasp, were he given the time. Yet he was hasty, and he was not thinking too coherently. Legolas dived deeper into the woods, guided by the sound of rushing water.

Twenty steps were taken. He was soon in the middle of a sunny glade. A stream flowed gently nearby, beside his feet. Small white flowers dotted the grass, blended with a few golden and cherry patches amidst some rocks. Around it stood a wall of tall trees, but sunlight pierced in strongly, as vines barricaded it. Legolas looked around. Just beyond was the white fall. But no one was in sight.

"Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar.

Nai elyë hiruva. Namárië!"

The song wafted round the glade, soft, like the wind, but strong enough to penetrate the foliage and reach the elf's keen ears. He knew that voice well. Legolas walked towards the voice, as if in a dream. In his haste, he had failed to perceive the very one person he was looking for. Legolas stood at the edge of the clearing, linking to another, where the falls where, and he shifted his blue gaze to the waters' edge.

There, on a rock of opal, sat the half-elf, robed in white. The voice had faded.

"… Lord Elrond?"

Startled, the half-elf turned to face the golden elf. He struggled to stand up hurriedly, but misjudging his step, he fell, quite suddenly, sideways into the water. Legolas gave a yell, and rushed to the scene. He splashed into the pool and swam around to seek for the half-elf submerged underwater.

The water was cold. The half-elf felt a little numb, but his right foot hurt badly, even through the chill. He saw the golden head of Legolas, and paddled up to his direction. Unable to swim swiftly due to injury, he clutched hold of the other, and pulled himself to the surface. He broke through the water, and gasped for air.

Legolas gave a sigh of relief. He helped the half-elf out gently, taking care to tread on smooth rocks. To his surprise, the half-elf failed to comply. He merely sat on the rock, looking a little perplexed.

"I think I sprained my ankle." It was softer than a murmur, but Legolas heard it. He was horrified. They were in the middle of a wood, and dripping wet, besides. Elrond saw the elf's expression, and smiled weakly. "…You don't have to stay."

"No, no!" Legolas stepped forward, going back to the rock. "That will not do! I'll stay here with you. But let us get off these rocks and dry ourselves under the sun. Get into the water, please. It will support both our weights and we can manage to dry land without hurting you."

Elrond nodded, and slipped back into the pool. Legolas got in, and kindly helped the other to the edge of the water. He pulled the half-elf to dry land after himself, taking care not to apply any pressure to either of his feet. Once out, Elrond smiled gratefully at Legolas. But the golden haired elf was not done yet.

"We must get dry, my Lord," he said in a haltingly shy manner. He turned his face away from the half-elf. "We should undress ourselves and dry our clothes under the sun, upon the grass. It is clean enough."

Elrond blushed, and shifted his gray eyes to the ground. But he complied, all the same. Before long, the two were clad only in inner garments, basking under the early summer sun. Legolas stole a few glances at the half-elf, but he stopped himself in time. He did not know of the other's returning gaze only till he saw it for himself.

A shy, fleeting look, and then a quick turn of the head, eyes shielded by jet colored hair.

Elrond saw it too.

A somewhat momentary glance over the shoulders; blue eyes darting from a corner, partially hidden by the golden locks.

The feeling was mutual. Their eyes met, and their gazes locked together, for a long time, till the half-elf broke into a small smile and turned away. He hugged his knees to his chest and fingered a small white flower on the ground.

"Thank you, Legolas. For helping me."

"You're welcome. I'm sorry for startling you like that," he replied, a little dejected. "I caused you to fall and hurt your ankle."

"I was careless," Elrond waved his hand absently, whilst the other was still stroking the white petals. Legolas shrugged.

"I feel a little bad," he said. "How are we to return now?"

"There are ways, should there be a will." Elrond glanced up at him, from the tiny blossom. His gray eyes reflected a living memory of history, myths, and loneliness. But amidst that, Legolas saw a sparkle of hope, kindled by the stars. It was kindled on the day Elrond chose to become an elven being.

And it shone on. He never gave up on life, and what it had in store for him. The half-elf swallowed hard. A few moments passed, and unknowingly, his hand stole away from the white flower to place itself on the golden haired elf's. When he realized it, though, to his surprise and delight, the elf curled his around the other's hand.

"I met Lady Celebrian this morning," Legolas said. "And she told me to seek you – so that you'd never deceive yourself."

Elrond looked up. Trust his wife to make plans behind his back!

Legolas turned to meet the half-elf's gaze. "How are you deceiving yourself, Lord? I would like to know. Because, maybe I'm deceiving myself as well. I need not do that, but I do want to know. Please… tell me."

Elrond looked at the green grass. He sighed.

"… I deceived myself by not pouring my heart out to the golden light I have often fancied to see."

Legolas nodded slowly, registering the words. His face was lit up by a growing smile. Blue eyes met gray ones. "I fully understand. You deceive yourself no more, and you never will."

He leaned forward, and his eyes fluttered shut. Their lips met in a chaste kiss, but a strong and sudden current of electricity jolted through their veins, into their hearts. Legolas pulled away, satisfied. They had sat in the clearing for four hours now, and were fully dry. They got dressed, and sat a little longer, exchanging banter. Soon the sun was already dimming, behind the clouds.

"We should return now, my Lord." He got up, and extended a palm to help the half-elf up. Elrond took hold of it, and unsteadily pulled himself up. He started to walk, but Legolas stopped him. "No, not like this."

To his surprise, the blond elf moved in front of him and knelt down. He took hold of the half-elf's wrists and pulled them to his bosom. Then, Legolas motioned him to climb on his back.

"Hold on to me, my Lord. Let me carry you home."

"…Legolas…"

"Please. Trust me. I want to do this." Elrond looked at the elf for a while. Finally, he relented, and climbed onto the golden haired elf's back. His heart beat a little faster, at the notion of being this close to the other. Legolas got to his feet. The half-elf was a lot lighter than he had expected. He walked on, lightly as ever, towards the edge of the forest.

Elrond leaned his head against the elf's warm shoulder. He smelt faintly of the woods and trees of Middle-Earth, a vanishing memory to the half-elf, pleasant, and bittersweet. Legolas felt the other lean in, and he smiled to himself. The woods fell back behind them, even as he walked on.

Soon, autumn would come, and the winds would blow in more memories, sweet, bitter and something to cherish for life.

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To Be Continued

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Note: Ah, this one's weird.


	3. Autumn

Seasons Of The Heart

Disclaimer: Belongs to Sir J.R.R. Tolkien. This piece belongs to Xun Err!

Warning: Slash! For more info, please refer to first chapter.

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== 3: Autumn ==

A cool breeze wafted through the trees, shedding off leaves from the gray branches. They floated to the ground below, a glorious color mesh of gold, silver, yellow, crimson and russet. The air smelt of a gentle dryness, a slight hint of sunshine showing through the clouds. The sky was painted a light blue-gray, like watercolor against supple paper, applied on with a soft brush, clouds of whitewash plastered on it in streaks. Beyond the horizon sat the blue mountains, standing high and mighty, embracing the Mansion. Around it was a carpet of trees, in various hues and shades – it was the coming of fall.

A mirror-like lake basked in the pale sunshine, reflecting the skies and the mountains in its calm waters. There were leaves of gold and red at its edges, bobbing unsteadily as a small wooden boat rowed by. Two figures sat opposite each other in it, one sporting golden hair and the other, jet-black. The flaxen haired one rowed it steadily, while the other sat mobile, lazily stroking the waters with his fair fingers. After a while, though, he sat up and looked at the blond.

"Would you like help, Master Legolas? It seems to me unfair that you have to row this burden all on your own…"

Legolas smiled. He shook his head slightly and continued paddling to the center of the mirror-like lake. "It is no burden to me, my Lord. Fair it is, and everything of that nature is never burdensome."

The half-elf blushed and turned to face the clear waters again. "You say such pleasant things, Legolas."

"Pleasant, but true," he laughed. Inwardly, though, Legolas was a little worried. Elves never got sick, but somehow, the half-elf had showed symptoms of being ill of health lately. Sometimes he seemed pale, white, and often he was breathless. However, he said nothing. Legolas did not wish to rush things between them, either. He liked the slow pace… it was soothingly serene, like the slow pace of leaves falling to the ground.

"…Is something troubling you?"

Twin gray gems laid themselves in his blue ones. The elf sighed, stopping the boat in the waters. He pulled up the oars and set them beside him. Then, he turned to face the half-elf. "Something is, but I cannot fathom what… this is a strange matter. I do not know if I should pursue it with you."

"And why not?" the other asked, almost coaxing.

"Well, it involves you, my Lord," he answered tentatively. Elrond gazed at him for a while. His gaze dropped back to the crystal waters, and he played, once again, his fingers into the lake.

"No, the elves do not understand."

Legolas looked up.

Elrond heaved a sigh, and smiled gently at the elf. "Elves do not fall ill, Legolas. Throughout history, the sickly are Men. As children of the Stars, we have been blest with immortality and purity. But I cannot say 'we' now, Legolas. I am not an elf… I am a half-elf. Half-breed I would be, and half-breed I would live. I will gain immortality, but there will be sickness in my life."

"Plagued by it…" Legolas said in a hoarse whisper. "Is there no cure?"

Elrond smiled a littler wider. He lifted his hands to cup the flaxen haired elf's face. "Only you will ask me that… the others accepted it as a fact. There is no cure, Legolas, but sickness is no obstacle to love…" he pulled away, and returned his gaze to the water. In it he saw his reflection, seemingly elf, but no truly. "…Unless, of course, that is not the way you view it."

Legolas shook his head furiously. "No, no! That is the way it is, then," he said, assuredly. "I shall love you for who you are, not what you are. Half-breed, true-breed – they make no difference to one's behavior. Some may be great, and look fair, but in their hearts they are pitch black. We can take the first Enemy as an example."

Elrond chuckled to remember how the Air Lord had been fooled once. Furious as he was, nothing could be done other than wage yet another war. Till this day, the Lord Manwë was still annoyed when the subject of Melkor was brought up in his midst. Legolas smiled to see his beloved cheerful. He took his hand and kissed it tenderly.

"Yes, I shall love you as Elrond, not as Lord Elrond," he murmured, matching the whisper of the water.

"I thank you," he said. On his lap he had white flowers, collected from the woods as they journeyed to the lake. He had strung them up into a chain. He picked them up and placed them upon the elf's head, the white shining amongst the golden yellow treads of silk. "I thank you, Legolas, king of my heart. I shall always love thee, as well."

Legolas laughed heartily. "This is like a fairytale romance."

"T 'is so, Sir Knight," Elrond grinned. He planted a small kiss on Legolas' forehead. "Wilt thou pledge thy loyalty to thine Lord? Mayhap tell of thine great love?"

"I will," Legolas shifted a little, causing the boat to bob on the calm lake. He coughed, and bent to take the half-elf's hands in his. "I. Legolas of Ithilien, shall pledge my loyalty to my Lord Elrond of Imladris. My great love is deeper than the deepest oceans, where even the grand Ulmo may fail to tread, higher than the bluest skies, where even Lord Manwë may be unable to observe, where the Stars are kindled and rekindled, and the Lady shall see to this. My love surpasses theirs. This is mine, great love for thee."

"The Lord accepts it," Elrond giggled. They both broke into a round of laughter. Then, as quickly as it started, it subsided. They gazed at one another for a long while. And then, they lean in…

Around them, the leaves float to the ground. The autumn sun shone faintly, illuminating the greens of the woods that were slowly but surely turning a golden hue. Soon the trees would become bare, and the cold, bitter winds would come. Winter was just around the corner.

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To Be Continued

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Note: This is short… my muse is a little dry, I'm afraid. I'm sorry… Maybe I'll write something better than this boring old piece!


	4. Winter

Seasons Of The Heart

Disclaimer: Belongs to Sir J.R.R. Tolkien. This piece is mine.

Warning: Slash. For more information, please check the first chapter.

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== 4: Winter ==

The ground was covered with soft, white snow. The branches stood out, naked, dead, in such cruel weather. But yet with its cruelty came a glacial beauty. There was good in every season, as there was motion in every piece of poetry. Small icicles dangled from those dead branches, causing it to look like white and clear crystal leaves. The skies were gray, and feathers of snow floated down from the heavens, like faeries, dancing in the wind.

Laughter filled the air, as two elves bundled in the snow. The ice was too powdery to form into balls, and so sprayed out before they touched the other. Legolas took off his cap, a mischievous glint in his sky blue eyes. He filled it with the white flakes, packing it snugly within the soft material. Chuckling, he nudged the half-elf.

"Are you cold, my Lord?"

"No, I am warmly decked enough, thank you," Elrond smiled. He knew that the elf had a trick up his sleeve. Legolas pouted.

"Well, then, your head is cold," he said, pulling Elrond's cap off, and freeing the dark locks. The half-elf gave a yell, and chased the blond for it. Taking his chance, Legolas bowed Elrond over and held him in the snow.

"Let go of me!" the half-elf struggled, laughing. Legolas complied, much to his surprise. He sat up to catch his breath, leaning against the blond for warmth. Legolas grinned.

"Here's your hat," he said. The half-elf nodded, and reached to take it from him. But Legolas shied away slightly. "I want to put it on for you."

The half-elf blushed when he heard the request. He nodded shyly, and sat back against the trunk of a large gray tree. Legolas inched close, and popped the cap full of snow onto his head. Elrond gave a yelp of dismay, and as quick as lightning, he managed to smack the blond elf on his head.

"Legolas!"

"Ha… Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"

The half-elf defied gravity, all a sudden jumping right on top of the elf. He pinned the golden being down to the ground, his past skills as a warrior still evident, even after many years of living in harmony. Out of the entire company, only Gimli retained most of his strength, working with the smiths and forgers. Legolas had not told him yet, but he had secretly requested from his stout friend a ring, which he would give to the half-elf when he thought the time was right.

"No, no, stop, stop," Legolas struggled helplessly, under the effects of laughter caused by fingers tickling him, under the thick fabric. Elrond grinned wider and lunged in for a stronger attack.

That was when he felt it.

A sharp stab, like that of a sword's, plunging through his body. The half-elf gave a gasp before releasing his grip, and tumbling over the shocked blond elf. Legolas sat up at once, and worriedly turned his companion over. To his horror, the half-elf lay unconscious.

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"What happened?"

"I don't know," Legolas sat by the corner, dejectedly placing his face in his hands. It was a few days since the incident took place. Elrond had only regained consciousness a few times, and hardly spoke a word. The greatest healers famed had come to see his well being, but all were stumped by their discovery, or rather, their failure to discover the cause. Most of all, though; they were worried by the severity of it.

Gimli grunted as he took a seat beside his friend. He placed his calloused hand over Legolas' shoulder, and thumped it gently. "He'll be fine." In his eyes, there reflected a mix of feelings – frightened, yet hopeful. Legolas took a look at them, and immediately drew strength. Gimli was a stout comrade to have when times were at the worst.

"I fear… I don't know what I fear, Gimli," Legolas said. He shook his head and tried to focus. "They say that he might… they say that he might die, Gimli. But elves don't die due to sickness. And that is what I fear."

"Have confidence, Legolas!" the dwarf replied in a hurry. "I have always known this elf-lord to be as hardy as a rock made of diamonds! Nothing cuts through his will! Be confident; he will be well."

Legolas nodded, but his heart was in turmoil. He could not simply sit there, waiting for the worst to happen when he could prevent it. But these feelings he did not speak out loud, lest Gimli or Gandalf reprimand him for it. He kept silent.

A few days passed, with the condition getting no better. Legolas felt more dejected than ever. He went to a small tavern, and sat there to drink, as custom of the wood-elves, once upon a time, long ago in Middle-Earth. There they would exchange stories and banter, as well as some who would gossip. The custom was fast fading, but it did hold its ground, a little weakly, in the West.

A flaxen haired wood elf sauntered next to him, and with a smile, he sat beside Legolas, mug in hand. He nodded pleasantly, and then casually began to exchange talk about the weather. Before long, they began discussing matters of much more serious nature.

"I hear that an elf has fallen ill."

"That is so," Legolas replied. He did not like mentioning that that elf was his lover.

"I also hear that he has a lover," the elf smiled dreamily. "I do wish that I were in his shoes. I heard that he was very attractive."

Legolas laughed, a bit jealously. "He is very attractive. His lover is a jealous person. Mind your tongue when you see him, sir."

"Yes," the elf nodded. Then his tone became melancholic. "That is all very sad. I had news that he might die. It's a pity for the two, I feel terribly sorry for them. I don't personally know them, otherwise I could pass a bit of information I learnt on my way here that might cure this sickly one."

"Information?" Legolas sat up. This was news indeed!

"Yes," the elf thought hard. "I remember once dealing with Men. There were a group of us then, and there was a very comely lad I took a particular fondness of. One day, though, he fell sick. Then, I had heard of a certain herb that could cure almost every illness – it's better than Athelas. I went in search of it. It worked."

"Where can you find it?" Legolas inched closer. The elf grinned nervously and backed off from the other.

"Do not be too eager!" he cautioned. "The road to it is deadly, even now, in the West of the Sea. If it weren't so important, I wouldn't have looked for it. You can find it in the Mountains east of Imladris."

"The mountains!" Legolas exclaimed in dismay. He vividly remembered the journey through the mountains in the fellowship, while they were traveling East to Mordor. But then, he remembered too, that this might be gossip. He decided to pursue it with Elrond, who was the master in Herb lore. Thanking the elf, he made his way back to the house of healing.

Legolas sat by the half-elf. He held his hand up gently, and shook him a little, to wake him.

"This is urgent, Elrond. I must ask you a question."

"Speak, then," the half-elf said, looking at Legolas quizzically. The elf sighed deeply.

"I have heard news of a certain herb, found in the mountains east of your home. Is there such a herb, that can cure all illnesses?" he asked, all in a breath. "I heard that is better than Athelas."

Elrond paled when he heard it. He gazed at the determined look written on the flaxen haired elf's face. "I cannot lie to you, Legolas. But first, you must promise me not to risk your life for me."

Legolas bit his lip. He said nothing, nodding his head, and crossing his fingers hard behind him. He could lie now. When they were happy together again, at last, Elrond wouldn't be angry then.

"Very well, then. Yes, there is a sort of herb, and it is indeed stronger than Athelas. This is the flower that blooms in the mountains, just east of my home. You have passed that way before, but failed to notice it. It is white, like snow itself. Silver are its leaves. It grows in the crack of rocks, in steep regions. Therefore it is very hard to obtain. This is the everlasting bloom created by Yavanna herself; with her very hands she tended them. When she left for the West, they blossomed still, to this day." Elrond looked away. "I did not dare tell you at first, fearing that you would try to achieve the impossible."

Legolas drank the information in. He got up, and kissed the half-elf on the brow. Elrond looked after him long after he left. Legolas had promised, but the half-elf's heart sank in deep – somehow, he feared the worst.

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"East?"

The bearded shipwright stared at Legolas in horror. The notion of going eastward was altogether now foreign to him. Legolas sighed. This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

"I'm not requesting that you come with me, Master Cirdan. I would only wish for some advice while navigating the seas. Would you not give them to me? I seek only a way to cure my beloved."

The shipwright shook his head, a little worried. The journey was perilous, more hazardous than being in the east itself. But then, he could not find heart to deny the younger elf some advice. He could not stop a loving heart; he knew. With a heavy breath of air, he told the flaxen haired elf all he knew about the ocean.

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"Master Elrond?"

The half-elf turned to face the figure standing by the doorway. It was no other than his old companion Gimli. The dwarf stepped in, and bowed low. The other repeated the same gesture, only nodding his head weakly, smiling blandly. The light in his eyes was already quenched – the stout dwarf could clearly see it now. Numbness seeped through him, a fear not known till now, but felt then when he sat in conversation with his golden haired friend, once upon a time, a few months ago.

He took a seat beside the bed, and held the half-elf's hand up the way Legolas would before. He fished out a ring, a ring wrought of mithril, with a single clear and well cut diamond embedded in the center, and he slipped it into the half-elf's fourth finger.

"Legolas wanted you to have this."

Tears welled up the half-elf's eyes. News had come to him before that a voyage set to the East had ended in calamity. On board was his flaxen haired elf, one who strove to set things right, and had even lied to him then. This was also one who never came back.

"…Thank you." He smiled, a pained one, at Gimli. The light of the stars that had been extinguished was now replaced by the shine caused by the moisture of unshed tears. "I had always wanted such a beautiful ring. And now I shall bear it, when it hurts most."

Gimli nodded silently. His heart was already bleeding. Elrond looked up at him, pale as the sheets spread around him. But he looked a little calmer now. "Tell the others that I'm sorry… I'm sorry for troubling them, and I'm sorry for causing them so much pain. And I… I want to thank all of you… thank you."

The dwarf held on yet firmly. "I will, Master Elrond. Be at peace."

The half-elf closed his eyes and smiled, laying back into the sheets. He could see the distant memories flash past by, as clear as if they had occurred yesterday. He remembered how he met the flaxen haired elf in spring, by the seashore, with the sturdy dwarf by his side. He remembered how summer began with their first kiss; tentative, by the poolside, just by the white falls… and how warm it felt to be carried home by Legolas. He remembered the clear autumn day on the lake, where the leaves floated round them, their little craft, as they pledged their love on the moving, silky waters. And he remembered too, just a few months back, how they had played in the snow, before his illness took him over, by surprise.

Then all went dark, and he remembered no more.

Gimli heard the last breath being exhaled. He got up, and walked to the window, pulling the white curtains aside. Outside, the ice was thawing, and drops of water hit the sill, tinkling a melody. Winter was ending soon.

But this time, spring would never be the same again.

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The End

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Note: There is no happy ending to this story, so please, don't ask me to write an alternative conclusion. (^^;) I'm an evil boy. Anyway, this has got to be crappiest thing I've written so far. XD


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